Always
by Hannah Tennant-Cumberbatch
Summary: "What?" Clara asks, biting her nail yet again, "Am I? Am..." And the Doctor just looks down at the two solid blue lines on this stick of white plastic with disbelief. Clara. Oswald. Is. Pregnant. [Doctor x Clara]
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Just a fic that's been requested on tumblr a lot. Thought I'd give it a shot :)_

_If you like, please favourite/follow/review! That would be really nice._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who._

* * *

**_Part One_**

He thought he'd make her breakfast.

It's not something he usually does; usually they barely have time for things like breakfast or even _know _when breakfast was in the first place. Sorry, time machine, things got a bit muddled sometimes. They had _meals, _but not designated ones like tea or lunch or dinner. Just food, really. They'd grab food when they were out and about, treat her to a little café or the best restaurant in the galaxy: depends where they ended up.

But, today, he decided to make her breakfast. Clara hadn't been so well recently (a bit of sickness, the odd bout of vomiting) so he'd took things easy, told her to rest up no matter how often she insisted she was completely fine. He didn't like seeing her with her head hanging over the toilet while he held her hair back from her face. It was so _unnatural _to see Clara Oswald unhappy like that. It was _weird. _She was always fine. Always.

So he told her to sleep for as long as she possibly could in hope that it would sleep some of the sickness away and she'd be okay again. In the meanwhile, though, he was going to make her breakfast.

He grins to himself as he chucks a few scraps of bacon into the frying pan, the slithers of meat sizzling in the heat. "Bacon. She loves bacon. Not me, but she loves bacon."

Ugh, bacon, he hated the stuff. But Clara Oswald loved it so that's what he was going to fry. He then puts another pan on the stove: peeling four ripe bananas and throwing them in too, because nothing quite beats fried bananas. As he looks in the overhead cupboard he sees some syrup, which makes the whole banana thing even better. Bananas and syrup, that's the ticket.

He really is in his element as he dances round the TARDIS kitchen; he's not the usual suspect in this room, that being Clara as she attempts another one of her soufflés, but he's forgotten how much he likes doing it himself. The smell of the bananas is so unbearably delicious that he dares to prod his finger into the pan to see if he can retrieve one, but retracts hastily as he realises _they're bloody hot._

"Ouch!" he hisses, sucking his sore finger, "Now that, _that _was just mean."

He then hears a chuckle from the doorway so he spins on his heels to see Clara: a little pale and her hair raggedy and loose, a small smile playing on her lips and her arms folded. Just _perfect._

"That's what you get for putting your fingers in a hot pan, silly." she scolds, biting one of her fingernails with her teeth. This puzzles him: it's as if she's nervous about something. Something he can't quite comprehend as of yet.

"Well. I'm not going to do it again now, am I?" he smiles, in the hope of making her smile too and not look so damn anxious. "That is the beauty of failure, Clara Oswald. Fail once, don't fail again." he hesitates, "Uh, well, most of the time…"

To his delight, she smiles again slightly at his remark. "Most? Bit of an exaggeration."

He scowls at her because she's exactly right. Like always. He gives her a frustrated wag of the finger before turning back to the pan, flipping the bacon round onto the other side. Ooh, flipping! Pancakes. She _loves _pancakes. "Anyway, I'm cooking you some breakfast. Bacon and bananas! Brilliant."

"Odd combination," she scoffs, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ears. "And Doctor… I have, um…"

"Have you been sick again?" he asks, his eyes filling with concern. She does look awfully pale. He abandons the bacon and strides over to her, cupping her faultless cheek in his hands. It's a little clammy, sure, but he can't blame her. "Are you still ill?"

"No, no, it's not that," she removes his hand from her face as she looks down at the floor. Her eyes study his boots: black and leather and almost _military _like. "I'm, uh… Late."

"Late for what?" he asks, his brow furrowing with confusion. As far as he knew, they hadn't planned anything. Had they? This wasn't some odd human thing, was it? "Late for tea? No rabbit hole here, Alice."

She chuckles ever so slightly. Only _he _could bring this situation into the comical territory. "No, Doctor, I'm y'know… _Late._" When he still showed no signs of acknowledgement, she let out an annoyed sigh. "Female late."

"Oh." his eyes widen to unnatural extent as those words entered his thought processes. "_Oh."_

"Yes. Oh," she shrugs her shoulders, not really sure what to say next. He looks sort of stunned, like a deer caught in some very bright headlights. He wasn't entirely familiar with the female menstrual cycle, but he knew it enough to know what _that _meant.

"Oh." his eyebrows raise, "How late, exactly?"

"Just a couple of days," she says, "But I just thought, with the sickness… I don't know."

"Oh. _Of course." _he says. Of course! How could he have not… They'd, y'know, _done the deed _a couple of weeks ago when they were particularly giddy on adrenaline after a rather exciting adventure, but he never thought…

She doesn't quite expect him to say it like that, but whatever. She doesn't care what he says. She's the one who could possibly be _pregnant _with a Time Lord after all. "What do I do, then?"

I? _We._

"Uh, well…" he scratches the back of his ear, the bacon well and truly forgotten. "I could take you to the infirmary, I've got some equipment that could check…"

"No!" she counters immediately, making him judder slightly with shock. "I mean I don't want _you _doing anything to _my _body with your weird alien tech. Can't we do something the normal way, just this once? Just to be sure. I might not even be… Y'know."

"I know," he replies even though he doesn't really. He shrugs his shoulders flippantly. "Whatever you want."

So Clara nods her head somewhat and tries to give him a reassuring smile which definitely means _I'm really not okay _and she exits.

The bacon is cremated and the bananas unrecognisable. His feelings are zigzagging all over the place because he just doesn't know how to feel: _Clara could be pregnant._

He'd always thought that humans and Time Lords couldn't _combine _like that. On the other hand, though, he'd never found out.

Although she might not be pregnant. It could be coincidence. _No such thing as coincidence._

What does he want? He can't tell.

Not yet.

-x-

"Clara, can I come in yet?"

He raps a few times on the locked bathroom door, his knuckles scraping against the wood. He can hear her rustling from the inside: the tension is killing him.

"Yes, sure, if you want to see me with my trousers round my ankles weeing onto a stick!" she retaliates sassily, "Come on in!"

He grumpily mutters under his breath before leaning against the bathroom door, drumming his fingertips against it. "How about now?"

"Patience!" she retorts, "I'm a bit shaky here, okay?"

And instantly he feels awful. How must this feel for Clara? Something so unplanned, so sudden, _inside of her? _He should've told her the possibility, even though he thought it impossible himself.

_Patience is for wimps._

Abruptly, the door handle turns and the bathroom door swings open and he almost collapses inside; but quickly grabs the doorframe for stability. He spins around to find Clara clutching the little white stick in her palms, her face a little 'o' of worry and _fear. _"I've done it."

He nods at her. "Do you know?"

She bites her lip, like she always does when she's nervous. "I can't look."

So he kisses her on the forehead and pulls her into his shoulders, hopefully to jettison some of that anxiety because whatever happens, he'll always be there. "It will be fine, love."

"Will you look for me?" she asks, her eyes watering ever so slightly because she is actually scared. Monsters, Cybermen, that she could cope with. But this? Not even the Doctor had prepped her for _this._

The Doctor hadn't even prepped himself for this. The fact that he could, _possibly, _not be quite as alone in the universe… The fact that within this human girl he'd grown to love so much contained something so impossible. Ha. The impossible girl. As if he could have expected any less of her.

"Of course." he smiles, and Clara carefully hands him the stick of white plastic that _hold their future. _It's weird to see something that has that sort of power which doesn't belong to _him. _

And he looks down, at the plastic and his eyes just widen.

"What?" Clara asks, biting her nail yet again, "Am I? Am…"

And the Doctor just doesn't reply because he can see _two straight blue lines._

Clara. Oswald. Is. _Pregnant._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hope you enjoy, reviews would be amazing!_

* * *

**_::Part Two::_**

Her eyes look up and she immediately snatches the stick from the Doctor in order to see for herself- like her judgement was needed to certify the Doctor's facial expression. When she finally sees it, the result on the plastic, her eyes widen to an almost inhuman extent. "Oh my _stars_…"

This is real? _Actually, properly, real?_

"Clara, I-" he starts, stuttering slightly, because he seriously doesn't know how this sentence is going to end. He doesn't know what words are going to make this situation any easier, any less impossible… He's never been faced with this before. Not with a human, not with one of his companions; then again he's never met anyone quite like Clara Oswald, has he? He's never felt the way he feels for Clara for anyone else before. It's odd.

"I thought you said humans and Time Lord's couldn't procreate," she says, still examining the test in order to find some sort of fault with it. The more she looks, the more real it seems to become- less and less flaws she can see. "I thought you said we didn't need to worry about that."

"They don't! Well…" he argues back weakly as evidently, they do, and Clara just gives him a look which suggests _don't try that one on me, chin boy. _He scratches the back of his ear nervously. "I just assumed we didn't! Erm, well, technically, humans and Time Lords have never, _y'know, _before so… It's never happened before!"

"Oh. Well!" Clara scoffs, "If it's never happened before, that means it won't!"

The Doctor shakes his head in retaliation. "Time Lord's and humans are completely different, Clara! We're not compatible with many species. I assumed –stupidly, as it seems- that that factor applied to humans too."

Her eyebrows rise as questions start to fill her brain. "Wait- we _are _biologically compatible, aren't we?"

"Yes! Well, so it seems," the Doctor points out, "If we weren't biologically compatible you'd be dead already."

"_Reassuring." _she mutters to herself, even though she's anything but. She's _pregnant. _With a Time Lord. How is this ever, ever going to work? Even the Doctor hasn't got a clue how this pregnancy would pan out and god knows what could happen further down the line. She's only ever known one Time Lord but she _knows _just how complicated the species is. How could that affect _her? _"I'm going to my room."

She taps the stick against her fingers for a few seconds, before briefly looking up at the Doctor for a split-second and making her way down the corridor.

"Wait- Clara!" the Doctor reaches out for her shoulder and pulls her back ever so slightly. "Shouldn't we talk about this?"

"I need…" she pauses as she presses the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. She doesn't even know what she needs or what she wants or even what to _think. _"Some time alone."

He frowns. If anything, she should be with him right now. This is a thing they've done _together _and that required some decisions. He's never acted like a grown-up or even tried to, but he _can _for something as an important and life-changing as this. "Alone?"

"Yes. Alone." she smiles up at him, and he _swears _there are tears developing in the corners of her eyes. "I need to think things through."

And he really should say something to try and stop her, but he just nods pointlessly and frivolously and flicks his wrist in the direction of the corridor. She nods back and before he knows it, she's gone.

-x-

She sits on the edge of her bed. Her room; well, it's not usually a place she spends most of her time anymore. She's usually with the Doctor and _his _room is just next-door. But this time- well, it seems more of a _her room _moment.

She can't look at the test anymore. She can't find any fault in it and that scares her all the more. She's always wanted children, maybe sometime in the future, but not _like this. _Completely unexpected and early and with a man who is probably over a thousand years older than she is. That's quite the age gap.

And, a man whose a _completely different species _to her. Giving birth scares her enough as it is, but the fact that she would probably give birth to a baby with two hearts and a superior brain and god knows how many complexities along the way is just _terrifying. _But could she get rid of it? Could she _really? _Clara Oswald understands hardship and she can cope with it. But could she cope with _a baby?_

Her hands flicker over her stomach for half a moment. She _couldn't _kill it. _Her baby. _That's just something she can't possibly do; and she doubts that the Doctor could let her do it. He's the last one. The last of his kind. How could he let her kill something that would make him that bit less alone in the universe?

But it's her body. Oh _damn it, _why did there have to be so many possibilities?

He may be a thousand years old, but Clara isn't sure if he's ready for this sort of responsibility and she's not sure if she is either. Granted, she should've been a bit less careless when jumping into bed with a Time Lord and just agreeing when he says 'don't worry, we're not compatible'- but when you're so high on adrenaline and you're just going crazy at the sight of each other it's not the first thought that comes to mind.

She falls back onto the bed, her hair spilling across the duvet like a brunette silky sheet. What had they done? What can they do?

_Does he still want her now she's pregnant?_

She shudders at the thought. She's never deemed the Doctor as one of those people to walk out on her now when she needs him most- but he can be so unpredictable at times it scares her. What if she tells him she wants to keep it but he sends her home because of it?

No. He wouldn't do that. Would he?

There's a quiet knock on the door. Instantly, she gets up from her position on the bed and with a quick eye roll she approaches the entrance. She's told him she wants some time alone but does he ever listen?

She pulls open the door and is about to tell him to go away but she stops in her tracks. The Doctor is smiling sheepishly in the doorway; holding the biggest tub of ice-cream she's ever seen, two scoops, a big crocheted blanket and a massive pile of DVDs (which all coincidentally appear to be her favourite movies).

"We can talk later if you want," he suggests, "But we take each day as it comes, Clara. We do things when you're ready for them and I'll support you every step of the way."

She smiles ever so slightly, leaning into the doorframe. "You're not going to leave me?"

He gasps at the very thought. "Absolutely not! We've done this thing _together _Clara and it is too late to go back and change it now- but, hey, when have I been ready for anything? Just because we're not strictly _ready _for this Clara doesn't mean I don't _want _this. Us."

The corners of her mouth turn up in a grin. Sometimes, he can really say the right things at the right time. This situation isn't ideal, but they'll cope. Like they always do and always _will. _"So… What flavour of ice-cream is that?"

"Every flavour!" he announces excitedly, "And I've got all your favourite movies. All of them. So what do you say? Fun movie day today, serious conversation tomorrow?"

She takes a scoop out of his hand and starts to walk down the corridor with him at her heels. "Sounds like a plan to me."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Here is chapter three! I hope you enjoy and reviews are much appreciated, just make sure if you don't like it either a) don't review and stop reading or b) give me some helpful, constructive criticism. Any anonymous hate I will remove. :)_

_Anyway, hope this is okay!_

* * *

**_Part Three_**

"It's surreal this, isn't it?" Clara says, sitting down at the kitchen table. There's a cup of tea in her grip in her favourite red spotty mug: it was somewhat of a tradition, now, to have a cup of tea when they were discussing something. He didn't even have to ask for her to put the kettle on- she automatically did it in anyway. "Us having a Big Grown Up conversation."

He laughs slightly, reaching forward for a jammy dodger. Clara's put a plate of them in the centre of the table. He supposes it is, really. Surreal. The pair of them have acted like kids, running around time and space in his snog-box without really much of a second thought. Of course, they'd faced deadly foes and really dark situations and there was always the urge within him to keep her safe which definitely wasn't childish, but apart from that, they hadn't done too much Big Grown Up Stuff.

But that's all about to change. Now they were going to have… Well, a _baby, _they couldn't just fly about the universe with their eyes wide open anymore. No, they needed hindsight and limited danger- or no danger at all, really. He couldn't let a child (_his _child) be susceptible to the horrors and the fear that the universe can throw at you.

Clara takes a sip of her tea, not taking her eyes off him. She looks a lot better today- she's put some make-up on and one of her pretty dresses, tied her hair back from her face. She was sick, again, this morning; but it's as if it doesn't scare her as much anymore. Now she knows she hasn't got some sort of weird Space Flu and she's just pregnant-

_Just. _Just pregnant. Actually, she doesn't know whether that's scarier than Space Flu. Probably is.

_Definitely is._

She coughs. Looks like it's going to be her to start the conversation. "Uh… What are we going to do, then?"

The Doctor scratches the back of his head, leaning back in his chair. "You're pregnant."

She raises her eyebrows. "Yep. Kind of established that."

His hand darts out for another biscuit. He dunks it into his own cup of tea, watching the ripples expand and expand in the liquid until they completely disappear. "What do _you _want to do?"

He's awkward. His hands dance across the table, constantly fidgeting. It gets to the stage where Clara has to physically stop him and _force _him to look at her without getting distracted. "This isn't just about me, Doctor."

"I know, I know. Sorry," he apologises, reaching out for her hand. He weighs it in his; outlining her veins with his forefinger. "It's just… I just want to know what _you _think. Your unaltered opinion. I know this partly my- Fault? Fault, yes… My fault. But do you want this baby, Clara? Do you want to put yourself through this?"

She hesitates. "My unaltered opinion?"

"Yes."

"Well… At first, no," she admits and she can feel him tense. "I suppose I didn't. I'm twenty-four; children have always been something that I've wanted, but just not this very moment. Not _now._"

His whole face falls. He feels so guilty about this- he should've taken more precautions, sussed out all the possibilities but no, he didn't. When he offered Clara Oswald all of time and space, this was _not _what she signed up for and it makes him feel awful, giving her all this responsibility when really she's still just a kid, so young, herself…

"No, listen!" she commands, because the look on his face hurts her too. This is still partly her fault. Even though he _did _say that humans and Time Lord's don't procreate, she should have still known better. Paid a little more attention just in case. "Didn't you hear the _at first _bit?"

"Sorry?"

"I said, _at first, _no." she reiterates slowly, her forehead crinkling as she takes another sip. "But, now, having a whole night to think it over- well, I can't. Get rid of it, I mean. I can't get rid of it."

"_Oh." _he says. There's no point trying to hide the half-smile taking over his lips. "I see."

"It's a baby. It's a body and blood and a _brain… _I just don't think I'd be able to forgive myself if I didn't give it a chance to use them."

There are a few moments of silence between them, mainly just processing their thoughts. The Doctor comprehending what Clara's just said while Clara tries to comprehend what she's just said as well. She just didn't think she'd be hearing those words, those decisions, come out her mouth right now- so all of a sudden. It excites her, this prospect, but it absolute downright terrifies her at exactly the same time.

The Doctor reignites the discussion. "Do you want my unaltered opinion, then?"

"If you don't mind."

He looks down at the table. The crumbs from the jammy dodger have left a trail on the wood, so he follows it with his forefinger. "Well… I suppose, I felt the same as you, at first. No. I've spent so long alone, Clara. Too long. But that loneliness, that isolation- it's sort of just became a part of me, who I am. I've had companions, like you, Clara; but you come and go and however hard that is I just have to accept it. But this, now, a baby- I can't just move and carry on when I lose you."

Clara gulps. He actually thought about this? He thought that he was going to lose her like he's lost everyone else? And their baby… She'd never really thought about this side before. The notion makes her stomach twist.

"But then… Everything ends," he smiles sadly. He knows that too well. "No matter how much I hate it, it's true. Everything ends Clara and I can't ever stop that from happening. Well. The only way would to stop things from beginning in the first place- and I can't possibly do that. I can't just wander round the universe halting decisions because I don't want to finish them."

She nods. He's never gone so deep before, delved so much into his own personal feelings. He hasn't confided in her like this.

"And a baby…" he exhales noisily, blowing out his cheeks for emphasis. "This is a massive change. For me, so long without a family and then suddenly _this. _At first, I thought I couldn't cope. _We _couldn't cope. But then… Maybe this is exactly what I need, both need, we just haven't realised it yet."

Her eyebrow cocks up and she leans forward onto the table. "Does that mean we're having a baby, then? Is that what we both want?"

He considers this. Yeah, well, he thinks so. How… Odd. "Just a reminder, Clara, this won't be any ordinary, human pregnancy. I've never seen a human/Time Lord hybrid before, not from the gestation period- but I can tell you from the off that it won't be straightforward and it won't be easy."

Clara shifts uneasily in her chair. "Yes. Okay…"

"I'm using practically all guesses and approximations here, but it'll take a bit longer than nine months to develop. I'm estimating probably edging more along eleven, twelve- nine is completely normal for a human foetus, but for a part Time Lord there's still a lot more developing to do. A more highly-evolved brain, dual hearts; definitely about twelve months."

She grimaces. "Great!"

But he's not finished. "Then, of course, is all your classic pregnancy symptoms but of course they'll be heightened to much a higher extent, like your morning sickness. I mean, you've only been pregnant for two weeks and already it's kicking in and it doesn't stop until at least month three I'm guessing. Then there's mood swings, cravings, migraines…"

"Migraines?"

"Oh, yes! Time Lords are very intelligent species, you see. Our brains just seem to sort of connect, like a sort of psychic link. It got dimmed millennia ago now as the High Council found that invading others thoughts was a bit inappropriate and a tiny bit creepy, but it's still there. Like a sort of tickling sensation at the back of the brain. It's quite pleasant, really," he smiles nostalgically, before snapping back to reality. "But that psychic bond, it's a lot stronger between family links. Even though you aren't a Time Lord, Clara, you'll be able to feel it. And that takes a lot of time to get used to, so you'll probably begin to get horrible migraines. Like an army of dwarves are trying to pull your brain apart with a pick-axe."

Clara's eyes widen as she almost spits out the mouthful of tea she's just drank. "Oh! Brilliant! That sounds _lovely!"_

He's gone off it his own little world for a second, before realising that the dwarves with the pick-axes aren't just going to be an incredibly funny mental image but literally the pain Clara will feel- and this is just the first few months of her pregnancy. He's not even going to start on the giving birth part (not that he knows a hell of a lot about that either.) He snaps out of it and his eyes soften with comfort for the girl who is most definitely just a bit scared in front of him.

"But once that bit is all over, we'll have a baby, Clara. A whole other person with your eyes and my hair and your sass and my…"

"Stupidity?" she interjects cheekily.

He shoots her disapproving look. "My _cleverness. _My cleverness, Clara. And I think… It'll be a bit brilliant and definitely beautiful. So, yes, if you think you can cope with that… We're having a baby."

There's no point in trying to smother the massive grin that's taken over her face and that just makes him smile back. She was going to have several months of struggle and then years of it after that; but the fact that the Doctor wasn't going to abandon her and they were doing this _together _made it all less daunting and scary.

She's drained her whole cup of tea, so she wanders over to the kettle in order to pour herself another- but the Doctor comes up behind her and takes the mug from her hands.

"Hey!" she retaliates grumpily, "What are you doing?"

"If we're taking this whole pregnancy thing seriously, you've had enough tea for today," he scolds, stuffing the mug in the sink. "You can't have too much caffeine. It isn't good for you."

Clara rolls her eyes. She didn't expect the protectiveness to kick in that quickly. "What am I supposed to drink, then?"

He invades the cupboards above the sink for a glass, grinning when he sees one with one of those bendy straws coming out but deciding that that one is best saved for another day. He instead goes for a normal, clear glass which he fills up with water straight from the tap.

"Water," he passes it to her, "Here you go."

She looks down at the transparent liquid with disgust- she doesn't mind water, but it's so _dull _and _tasteless. _"My dad always tried to make me drink water when I was a kid. _It's good for you, Clara!"_

Then she pauses and it's almost as if all the colour drains from her cheeks.

"What? What is it?" he asks worriedly, bounding over to her.

"Oh my _god. _We're going to have to tell my dad, aren't we?" she says, "And _he _still thinks your some creepy mad pervert!"

"Creepy mad pervert?!"

Clara shakes her head nonchalantly. "He thinks that of all my boyfriends. Don't go thinking you're anything special- although, you are the first creepy mad pervert to knock me up, so that is a first."

"But I haven't even met your dad! How can he possibly judge me already?"

"Well…" Clara wanders back over to the table so she can sit down. The glass of water goes straight onto the surface, untouched. "He thinks you're the horrible, awful person who stole me away every Wednesday so I could no longer go round to his for tea like I usually do."

The Doctor follows. He's pretty much livid. "But you _told _me Wednesday was the day you weren't busy!"

"Exactly," her nose crinkles at the thought, "I've been looking for an excuse to get out of tea for years. Thanks, for that. I'm sick of him banging on about all his stupid government conspiracies."

He groans. He's had many angry mothers on his back, but an angry father sounds just as bad. "We better go and see him as soon as possible, then. I'm guessing you'll want to see the Maitland's, too?"

Clara shoots a look straight up at him. "Oh God, yes! I can't keep being Angie and Artie's nanny if I'm going to have my own baby, can I? I mean, they've been looking for a proper nanny for ages and I've always said I'll be there for as long as they need… But I can only be there for a few months, can't I? And, oh god, my dad doesn't know you're an alien, does he? He can't know. I think he'll possibly go into cardiac arrest if he finds out that he's going to have a part alien grandchild. Or the fact he's going to have a grandchild, full stop-"

The Doctor interrupts by clamping his hands down on her shoulders. "Stop panicking, Clara! It'll be fine. I hope. Probably. Just, uh, break it to him gently…"

"My dad is incredibly overprotective," Clara warns, "So it'll probably be _you _that ends up broken somehow. When I was seventeen, he broke my boyfriend's nose. But that was just after my mum died, I guess. He just didn't want to see me moving away from him. He might be better now."

"Uh… Yes! Hopefully! Should we go, then? Make this swift and have it done and over with? Two weeks out of eleven months, it'll give him a lot of time to think it over."

"Okay. Just as long as you put on some protective clothing first."

"… I'll grab my helmet."


End file.
